


how you knew me

by brokendrums



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crossdressing, Halloween Costumes, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 11:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2545343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendrums/pseuds/brokendrums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall's halloween costume goes wrong. Harry doesn't seem to mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how you knew me

**Author's Note:**

> For [ loey's ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/loey) Halloween prompt - 'Sexy' costumes. 
> 
> Title from Monument - Royksopp & Robyn

Harry’s just pouring a final layer of grenadine into two tall glasses when the song changes, a brief lull in pumping music allowing him to hear a snippet of an indignant rant coming from upstairs. 

Harry steadies his hand, finishes layering his cocktail before he steps back and admires his handiwork. They’re called Dracula’s Kisses, sickly red syrup sliding down the glass to look like blood. Harry runs his tongue over the pair of false teeth he’s wearing, catching on the sharpened canine - they suit his costume perfectly. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry calls as he starts up the stairs. He hasn’t got his boots on yet so the stairs are tricky in slippy sock soles, especially when he’s got a long velvet cape licking around his ankles. 

“Nothing!” Niall yelps. He sounds panicked so Harry only climbs up the final steps quicker, feet skidding as he rounds the corner.

“What is it?” he insists, tongue lisping against the plastic around his teeth. 

“Harry!” Niall yells and the door to Harry’s bedroom suddenly snaps shut. “Piss off until I sort this out.”

“Maybe I can help,” Harry offers but stands outside his door dutifully. He wraps his mouth around the straw in one of the drinks, hoping not to smudge the thick layer of dark red lipstick Lou layered onto his mouth half an hour ago. It feels like he’s been ready for ages, suited and not-quite booted for the party. 

“I just -” Niall replies, dulled slightly through the door. “Willie.”

“Your willy?” Harry asks, slightly alarmed. “What’s wrong with your willy?” 

He hears Niall bark out a laugh and allows himself to smile, even though he can‘t see it. 

“No,” Niall huffs a sigh, Harry can nearly imagine what his face looks like at the other side of the door. “I think Willie’s taking the piss. My costume - it’s - fuck.”

This time he finishes off with another bark of disbelieving laughter so Harry figures he’s working it out himself and takes another sip of his drink. It’s too sweet, not enough rum. Niall’ll probably demand a beer. His left hand tires, as if it knows that holding Niall‘s drink will all be for waste. 

“Hurry up,” Harry urges him. “My ice cube eyeballs are melting. I want you to see.”

Niall makes another noise and there’s a little bit of rustling before the doorknob to Harry’s door twists and it’s finally wrenched open. 

“Oh my god,” Harry says, jaw dropping open at he sight of him. 

“I know!” Niall exclaims and sticks his hands on his hips. It only extenuates the cut of the costume, where it nips in at the waist and flares out of Niall’s barely there hips. 

“Fuck sake, he’s done this on purpose you know,” Niall grouses. “I bet all the rest of the lads are actually in the proper strip and in on it!”

Harry isn’t sure how to respond. Niall’s in the Real Madrid colours but definitely not in the strip like he had planned. 

“I mean what the fuck?” Niall asks him, grabbing a fistful of the skirt and pulling it out so Harry can see the expanse of it, the pleats pulling out straight. It only brings it higher up his thigh, flashing Harry a glimpse of his skin. Harry’s mouth suddenly feels very dry. 

“You’re a cheerleader?” Harry asks quietly. His fingers around the glasses are in a death grip. 

“I don’t know what the fuck it is,” Niall huffs and his hands go back to his hips again and Harry likes that too much to stop staring at him. The dress is tight, cut around the shape of his body. There’s a slice of shiny blue material around the skirt, skimming Niall’s barely there arse. Harry wants him to do a twirl, see if it flares up enough that he can see his bum. 

“Fuck _off_ ,” Niall exclaims, catching the way Harry’s eyes are dropping down to the socks pulled up to his knees. Niall’s already starting to blush, pink spreading down his collarbone and into the v-neck dip of the shirt. There’s two crests, neither of them matching to where Harry knows Niall’s nipples lie but the top of the dress is baggy, like he’s missing the tits to fill it out. The thought of Niall padding it makes Harry’s blood run a bit faster. 

“What?” he asks defensively, already knowing he’s been caught out. 

“You bloody like this!” Niall crows but he doesn’t move and when Harry meets his eyes he can see the humour in them. Harry grins, sets the drinks down carefully. They’ve half melted all into a slushy red, layers blended together so Harry’s not bothered about them anymore. 

“Well,” Harry shrugs and tries to look shy about it even though he’s itching to get his hands on him. Niall snorts, lifts a hand to his brow for a moment before he drops it, smile curving out his mouth. 

“You’ve a terrible poker face,” Niall tells him quietly but Harry’s already prowling up to him, stepping over the mess in the middle of his bedroom floor to settle his hands on Niall’s hips. 

The skirt is scratchy, that cheap material that Harry always associates with teen discos and crap costumes but the layer covering his torso is shiny and slippery soft as Harry’s fingers skate up his side. 

“You going to do a routine for me?” Harry asks quietly. Niall laughs, one hand coming up to finger at the dramatic velvet collar Harry’s wearing and his other thumbing across the sharp false teeth at the side of his mouth. 

“You gonna bite if I don’t?” Niall asks. Harry grins, hopes that his makeup looks gruesome but Niall just laughs again so probably not. 

“That can be arranged,” Harry mumbles before he swoops in, dodging his mouth and going to his neck instead. Niall laughs again, finishes it off with a gasp as he arches his head back, letting Harry bite and kiss his way down his throat. 

He’s left a trail of smeared red lipstick down into the hollow of Niall’s collarbone, stark against Niall’s pale skin. Harry stares at it, tries not to think of it as a claim. 

“We’re going to be late,” Niall says breathlessly when Harry rolls his hips against his belly. Niall’s hard too so Harry doesn’t think he’s properly complaining. 

“Fashionably late,” Harry assures him and turns him, hands on his hips, towards the bed. “It’s not like we have to be there for midnight or anything.”

Niall rolls his eyes but Harry ignores it, ducking in finally for a proper kiss. His capped teeth make it awkward but Harry can still press his tongue desperately against Niall as he arches against him again, the satiny front of his dress sliding against where Harry’s only done one button of his shirt across his navel. It makes him shiver, push Niall down onto the bed. He wants to rub against it with his cheek, stroke his hands down the slippery front, rub his dick against it. 

“Mmph,” Niall says pulling away from his mouth. Harry follows it, catching his chin in an open mouthed crimson smudge. Niall’s stubble is a barely there rough but it’s jarring when everything else about him, dress and all, is so smooth. “Wait, hold on.”

“What?” Harry asks, leaning off him to catch his breath a bit. He hopes Niall won’t take long, his dick is already pressing uncomfortably against the front of his jeans. Niall wriggles, not entirely unpleasantly against him until he’s lying on his side beside him on the bed. He looks a bit ravaged, red and pink smeared around his lips and down his face. Harry should wear lipstick more often, it looks pretty. Harry wonders if he reapplied another coat would it show up on Niall’s dick. 

“The dress is a bit weird,” Niall says and there’s a hint of warning in his tone. Harry raises an eyebrow. 

“I think we’ve covered that bit,” he says, reaching for him again. Harry’s crossed the slightly-aroused-by-Niall-in-a-skirt bridge twenty minutes ago. Niall laughs, cheeks flushing a darker shade of pink than his chest and Harry realises suddenly that he’s embarrassed, properly embarrassed for the first time since Harry’d seen him. “What?” Harry asks gently, one hand coming up to circle around his wrist because it’s creeping closer and closer to covering his face. 

“It’s like a two-piece,” Niall explains quietly and Harry stares at him. He has no idea what that means. Niall groans a bit out of frustration, dodges his eyeline and explains to the ceiling what he means. “It’s like a skirt and a -” Niall flaps his free hand about a bit in the air and Harry watches him, doubly confused. 

“Does it matter?” Harry asks, already getting impatient with Niall’s (cute as it may be) blithering. “Just get it off, yeah?” 

Niall’s cheeks stain darker but he rolls off the bed, coming to a stop in front of Harry’s sprawled knees. Harry sits up on his elbows slightly to watch as Niall reaches back for the catch in the skirt. He wishes he was naked. Maybe he could get Niall to just sit down on top of him, skirt still on so it would pool around their hips. 

The skirt falls to the floor in a puff of taffeta and with it gone, Harry can appreciate the length of his legs, the way his socks are slipping down over one of his knees and the uncovered soft looking expanse of his thigh. 

“Oh,” Harry breathes out. He understands what Niall means now. He’s not wearing boxers, he can’t. The top of the outfit cinches in at his hips, cuts down sharply into his groin. It sort of looks like a swimming suit like this except Niall could never wear this in public, the way his dick is straining through it is obscene. 

“Yeah,” Niall says quietly. He has one hand hovering near his hip and it looks one second away from sneaking sideways to cover himself up so Harry sits up straight, reaches for him with a smile. 

“It’s pretty hot,” Harry reassures him, voice slurring a bit in the rush to get it out. And he’s not lying, something’s unfolding in him that he’s never had to really think about before. Niall breathes shallowly out of his mouth, audible in the quiet of the room. Harry tries not to think about it as a sigh of relief, he just smiles up at him again and skims his hand up Niall’s thigh, rings catching as they go against the growth of hair. 

“Pretty hot,” Niall repeats and when Harry glances up again be catches something in the way Niall’s looking at him, his eyes suddenly intense with something that Harry’s never seen in him before. It matches up with something falling into place in Harry too, a jagged edge that fits perfectly with the uncertainty Niall’s expressing in his face.

“Pretty,” Harry says slowly, tonguing his two false teeth out so he can speak properly. “And hot.” 

Niall bites his lip, rolls his hips in an inch and Harry squeezes his hands against his skin, thumbs against the soft edging of material along Niall’s groin to hear him gasp. He widens his knees, draws Niall in between them so he can duck in, kiss down the slippery material. He kisses against his bellybutton and scrapes his teeth down his tummy. The lipstick’s just about worn off now, a barely there trace of it on the bright white material of Niall’s costume. 

The thought that Niall can still wear this later in front of all their friends without any of them knowing makes Harry groan. 

Niall answers him with a quiet moan of his own, his hand coming up to rake through Harry’s hair. He scratches his nails across his scalp, thumb massaging behind Harry’s ear before there’s a gentle press against the crown of his head. Harry grins against Niall’s waist, allows himself to be pushed down until he’s nosing against the stretched material across Niall’s dick. 

It’s not as pretty as a pair of knickers would be. Harry has to close his eyes at the thought, Niall in a pair of lacy knickers, stretched out across his hips. Maybe he could wear black so it would stand out against his skin, hide his dick away in them until he couldn’t any more. 

“Fuck,” Harry breathes against him, inhaling again the musky scent of Niall’s skin and pre-come. “I want to fuck you.”

Niall breathes out, scratches his nails again in the mess of Harry’s hair. “We don’t -” He stops to take a breath, hips jerking into Harry’s face. Harry opens his mouth, lets Niall bump the head of his dick against his bottom lip. “We don’t have time.”

“I know,” Harry says, lips brushing against the crown of Niall’s dick. Niall groans again, rolls his hips. The white of the knickers are wet, Niall’s pre-come soaking into the material. Harry presses his tongue against it, adding to the damp patch. He brushes his hand around Niall’s arse, squeezing at his bum as Niall pushes into his mouth again. 

“C’mon,” Niall urges him, one of his hands slipping round to his cheek. His knuckles hit against the collar of Harry’s cape and Harry’s suddenly reminded how he’s got too many clothes on. 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees and falls back against the bed, one hand going up to unhook the cape around his neck while Niall’s hands go to his belt. 

Harry strips unsurprisingly quickly, his jeans pulled to his knees and the shirt pulled over his head to lie behind him on the pillows. It feels like his skin is on fire, shivery electric as Niall trails his fingers down over his shoulders and onto his chest. 

Niall reaches between his legs and Harry watches in fascination, one hand stroking slowly up his own cock as Niall’s fingers trail past where his balls are stretching out the gusset of the suit. 

“There’s this weird popper,” Niall explains and he giggles a bit. Harry reaches forward, cups his palm around the hot skin, feeling the way the material is stretched around him, soft and silky over how hard he is before it suddenly goes loose with the snick of a popper. 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees with a wry smile, fingers curling under the hem of the material to get a feel of proper skin. “That’s the weirdest bit.”

Niall laughs again and presses forward, one hand pulling at the material to get it hoisted up over his hips and belly. Niall dick jerks out of it’s confines eagerly and it’s only now that Harry can appreciate how hard he is, the angry red head of his dick shiny and wet. 

Harry mouths at it, unable to resist getting a taste of him. Niall groans softly and pushes into his mouth, Harry’s tongue flat and inviting. Harry wants to tell him to fuck his mouth, lets his mouth go slack and breathes in deeply, relaxing his throat as an invite but Niall pulls out, eyes screwing shut when Harry glances up through watery eyes. 

“Fuck, Harry,” Niall growls out through clenched teeth and then he’s climbing into Harry’s lap, pushing him back into the mattress to kiss him again, teeth scraping over Harry’s bottom lip where he tastes of Niall’s sticky pre-come. 

Harry’s dick jerks at the sudden friction and Harry can’t help rut up against him. Niall groans against his lips, one hand disappearing to hunt under the pillows for Harry’s spare bottle of lube. There’s a dribble left in it, enough for Harry to smear over his hands and drip over the top of his cock. 

Niall’s breath stutters as Harry grabs at him, one hand pulling them off together as the other trails between their sprawl of legs. He kisses him just as Harry’s knuckles brush his balls, feel out the heaviness in them before pressing against his perineum. 

“Time,” Niall reminds him with a gasp. “M’gonna come anyway.”

Harry grunts, strains his neck up to kiss him again, distracting him as he slides his palm down between Niall’s thighs instead, slicking him up. 

“Jesus, Harry,” Niall gasps and there’s a complaint in there somewhere but Harry ignores him, laughs against his lips before pulling him flush against him, dicks trapped between their bellies. 

They roll too much and Harry feels like they’ll fall off the side of the bed but Niall’s mouth is already dropping open, working wordlessly around nothing as he clamps his legs together so Harry settles his weight, presses down into him.

“Fuck,” Harry groans, pushing his dick between the mess of Niall’s thighs. The top of the dress is caught around Niall’s torso, a nipple poking out hard and red from the neckline. Harry wishes he got him to put on the skirt again, just for a split second before it flickers out of his head entirely, the way Niall’s thighs clench catching his attention instead. 

Niall works a hand between them and Harry can feel the brush of his knuckles against his stomach as he pulls himself off, the quick beat of them falling into rhythm with every jerk of Harry’s hips. 

Harry kisses him one last time, messily licking into his mouth until he can’t concentrate anymore, the head of his dick catching wetly against Niall‘s rim. He feels Niall tense, his thighs locking as he comes between them and it’s not hard for Harry to give into the sizzling tightness at the base of his back either. He can feel it stretching out, pulling him taut and thin. Niall’s fingers tighten at his hip, something sharp keeping him tethered as he comes into the clench of his thighs. 

“Fuck,” Niall mumbles when he’s caught his breath. Harry mouths at a patch of skin on his neck. It tastes of sweat and waxy like lipstick. “What am I going to wear now?” 

Harry considers just letting him go like he is, dress stretched out around the neckline and sweated through but Niall winces and pulls at it again. 

“I’m sure I’ve got another cape about somewhere,” Harry suggests. Niall looks over at him sleepily. Harry knows he’s got a three minute window to get him in the shower before he drifts off proper. “Not as sexy, maybe.”

Niall grins, slow and red mouthed. It’s going to be very obvious what kept them. 

“Pretty damn sexy,” Niall reassures him, rolling over onto his side so he can kiss him again. 

Harry grins, kisses him back and wonders what Niall would think about a matching shade of lipstick.


End file.
